Hermione Granger in 100 Words
by Phoenix Lullaby
Summary: [..In..Progress..] A list of the fics I've done in response to the 100hp fics challenge on LJ. All are Hermione centric, and include various pairings. Rating may change later.
1. Authors Note

_**Disclaimer: Anything you do not recognise is mine, anything you do is hers. So what's mine is not hers and vice versa. Oakies?**_

Note:

These are taken from the 100hpfics over at LJ, and their prompt table. I am simply borrowing it, and have added the last row of ideas (96-100) as my own ideas. Each fic will be 100 words+, and they will vary in update times. Hopefully, I will have these all done by this time next year. I will be updating DoE, see authors note on there please.

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and review these fics.

Also, does anybody have any particular ideas that they want me to write? I've got lots of five minute breaks at the minute, and small fic ideas (or longer ones for after exams) would be great!

Thanks again

PL

xx


	2. 001  Vintage

_**Disclaimer: Anything you do not recognise is mine, anything you do is hers. So what's mine is not hers and vice versa. Oakies?**_

001: Vintage

Summary:  Hermione discovers that vintage isn't always outdated.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had been flat sharing for nearly a year, and in all that time, they hadn't been out together. Harry had been too busy with Auror training, Ron was always out on the pull, and Hermione hardly had time to sleep, let alone socialise. The trio was in dire need of going out, or in Ron's case, being restrained, and having a good time. The answer lay in the form of Ginny Weasley.

Popping round to the flat, she saw that everyone was out. Grinning impishly, she set to work.

Harry arrived home first, and immediately sensed something different. Cautiously, he inched his way to the living room, and saw Ginny sprawled out on the couch. "Hi, just popped round to organise a night out – you game?" The twinkle in her eyes then could have rivalled Dumbledore's, as she sweetly stared him down. Feeling like a rabbit in headlights, Harry could only mutely nod, as Ginny turned him round and shooed him in the general direction of the bedrooms. "Now go put on something presentable, and have a shave for Merlin's sake!"

Harry walked into his room as if in a trance, before banging his head on the doorframe that he always forgot to duck. "Bloody stupid thing…idiotic piece of wood…." Regaining his senses, he remembered what Ginny had said and ambled off into the bathroom to get changed.

Ron arrived home in a similar way, only he didn't bang his head on the doorframe. When the two boys returned for inspection, Ginny eyed them critically. Harry was wearing some simple black trousers with a deep blue shirt on, and his hair was messier than ever. Ron had also opted for black trousers, but had on a horrendously clashing red shirt. Covering a grin, Ginny pronounced them presentable. Then Hermione walked in.

Ginny immediately squealed and dragged a frazzled Hermione off to get ready. The boys, realising they were in for a long wait, settled on the couch with a shot of firewhisky. In Hermione's room, Ginny had ordered Hermione to her en suite bathroom, to shower and get clean. In her walk in wardrobe, Ginny had picked out many skirts and tops and then altered them with a flick of her wand. Sighing, she wished it was just as easy to alter the print or texture of the garments. Even in the wizarding world, not everything was possible. Textures, prints, layers, frills and the like had to be sent to a Fashion House to be altered, something Ginny had neither the time nor money for.

As Hermione walked in wrapped in a fluffy white towel, she sighed as she realised what lay in store for her tonight. After much arguing, they finally decided on a tartan print skirt that came very high up Hermione's thigh, and a black halter neck top with a low front and virtually no back.

Leading Hermione out into the living room, Ginny announced suddenly, "Right. Now I want you to take one of these tickets once I've gone. There you will be transported to your venue for tonight. Have fun, don't kill anyone and get really drunk!" With that, she disapperated with a loud crack.

"So…..what do think 'Mione?" came Ron's slightly slurred voice from the corner of the settee. Harry solved the problem by striding over to the tickets and seized one. He suddenly vanished with a soft pop. "Well that was mature wasn't it Ronald?" Hermione walked across the room and shot Ron a miffed expression before extending her hand to the tickets. Like Harry, she hardly made a sound when she portkeyed away. Ron sighed. He shouldn't have opened his big mouth and asked the obvious. Running a hand through his hair, he stood up and ambled over to the sole remaining ticket. With a loud crack, he left to join Harry and Hermione

The tickets had brought them to a relatively new club on the backstreets of Leeds. The club was hot and the dance floor was full of bodies gyrating against each other. Music kept up a constant fast tempo that pounded the beat into your head, and the smoke smelt of something sweet, wafting over from a secluded corner.

Heading towards the bar, Hermione ordered a bottle of vintage wine without thinking – it was her usual tipple at the Maiden's Den, her local pub. Mentally berating herself for ordering such an uncommon drink, she turned to watch the boys chat up a pair of blondes. Smiling, she shook her head and paid for her drink. Not drunk enough to start dancing, she took her wine over to a corner, hidden away by the stairs.

Several men came and tried to chat her up, but after the sixth one stared 7 inches below her face, she'd had enough. Harry was busy snogging by the bar, and Ron had his hands under the other blonde's skirt. From the noises she was making, he wasn't just holding her hips. Feeling a bit left out, she turned and headed for the apparation spot. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of wind before it quieted.

Standing outside her front door, she let herself in, and flopped straight onto the bed. Staring up at her ceiling, she began to ponder if there was something wrong with her, something that turned all decent men off, but attracted sleaze balls like crazy. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she remembered was waking up to see her clock reading 6:30.

Groaning, she rolled out of bed and padded softly to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Feeling a bit mischievous, she decided to ruin the boy's fun. Casting a translucency spell at Harry's door, she saw he was alone, and pushed open the door, ever so quietly, before pouncing on his bed and tickling him. "AAAARRGH! What the bloody hell are you doing woman? Sneaking up o-" At this point Harry had to stop, not because of Hermione's giggles, but because his head hurt. And his eyes. And his brain. And his throat. Hell – he was hung-over real bad.

Cracking open an eyelid, he asked Hermione "Why the hell aren't you hung over?" Wincing he shut his eyes as he heard the reply. "Must have been the wine. Did you know, that after a certain age, vintage wine looses its potency and means so more hangovers?" Groaning, Harry muttered something that sounded something like "Well, you could have warned me beforehand".

"Coffee's in the kitchen and I'm going to wake Ron up just like I did with you – wanna help?". Two identical grins broke out on their faces before Harry winced. "Hangover potion first, then coffee, then tormenting Ron." With a feigned sigh of impatience, Hermione mused to herself. Maybe vintage was best after all.


	3. 002  Experiment

_**Disclaimer: Anything you do not recognise is mine, anything you do is hers. So what's mine is not hers and vice versa. Oakies?**_

002: Experiment

Summary:  An experiment goes horrendously wrong – how will Hermione react?

Walking down to the Potions classroom always used to give Hermione a feeling of dread in her stomach. Not any more. She was a teacher now, and could go wherever she pleased. Snape and herself had been working on an improved version of the Wolfsbane, and had been experimenting with a new ingredient. Unfortunately, Hermione thought, as she knocked on the heavy wooden door, it wasn't getting anywhere fast.

The door swung open to reveal a snarky Snape, standing over a steaming caouldron full of Salamander blood and Sphinx hair. (**A/N: **Don't you just love alliteration?)The potion wasn't getting any better, and somehow it had nearly poisoned everyone one breakfast. Nobody knew why, and it was getting quite dangerous working around the potion now.

Just as Hermione stepped forward, the cauldron gave an almighty hiss and proceeded to belch its contents all over the two suspecting professors. Both scowled, before trying to wipe off the green gunk that was rapidly solidifying. Snape and Hermione were both frozen, as they potion began to seep into their skin. It crept up her arms, and started to caress Hermione's neck, before winding tighter and tighter.

Now panicking, Hermione tried screaming, but that made the problem even worse. Arriving in the nick of time, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, muttering spells under his breath until he shook his head in defeat. "I'm afraid that the only way to get his off is for the people under the potion to touch each other – a kiss ought to do it." He twinkled at them with that infuriatingly patient way of his before staring pointedly at the both of them.

Sight, Hermione began to shuffle across to Snape, not daring to meet his eyes. As the gunk around their bodies knocked into each other, Hermione was struck by a sudden streak of inspiration. Smirking, she deftly moved over to kiss Snape soundly. Snape's eyes opened in shock, before she pulled away, smiling wickedly at him. Looking down, he noticed that the gunk was gone, and that Hermione and Albus had exited the room.

As Hermione, Minerva, Pomona, Xiomara and Poppy all made their way down to the Three Broomsticks, Hermione leaned in conspiratorially and whispered "Anyone want to hear who snogged the Potions Master?" All five immediately went into gossip mode, and began cackling like….well….witches.

Severus was going to face one hell of a morning tomorrow.


End file.
